


Once More to See You

by call-me-cee (cls1606)



Series: Once More to See You [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Meetings, Gen, Identity Issues, Mentions of Slavery, Panic Attacks, social pressure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:21:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27692048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cls1606/pseuds/call-me-cee
Summary: Even the air felt different. It was just as dry as Tatooine, but it was cold, so cold, as cold as midnight even in the middle of the day.
Series: Once More to See You [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2027243
Comments: 18
Kudos: 51





	Once More to See You

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warning: Panic attack, mentions of slavery and control chips/bombs. 
> 
> Another drabble, another writing exercise. :)

Even the air felt different. It was just as dry as Tatooine, but it was cold, so cold, as cold as midnight even in the middle of the day. 

* * *

Ani stumbles into the big garden completely by accident. He hadn’t meant to wander quite that far from the council chambers, but there was so much here that was _interesting_ and nobody stopped him anyway. He’s pretty sure there’s more water here than on the entire planet where he grew up (logically he knows that’s not the case but _still_ ), and he’s never seen so much green outside of refrigerated cellars. 

Eventually he dodges three groups of younglings with their crechemasters ( _late late late, you didn’t grow up here, you’ll never fit in_ ) and twelve individuals meditating ( _bo-ring, how can they possibly sit for that long_ ) and finally finds someone _interesting_. He hides behind a strange leafy plant to observe her. She’s not meditating, and she’s not practicing forms, and she’s not reading…she doesn’t actually seem to be _doing_ anything aside from silently brushing her hand along the surface of the pool. To and fro. To and fro. The ripples created by her veridian fingers radiate gently from where she’s sitting to the lamppost at the other end of the pool. Her eyes are unfocused, seemingly staring at nothing in the middle of the water as her hand treads back and forth. 

Ani watches her for what feels like a long time. Long for him, anyway. Back home stillness meant death (unless you were hiding, then stillness meant survival), but watching this girl Ani starts to understand why Obi-Wan was so frustrated that he couldn’t sit still on the long trek back to Coruscant. When Obi-Wan tried to teach him to meditate, Ani couldn’t understand the feelings of contentment and quiet joy that pulsed in the Force and he couldn’t replicate them ( _stillness means death_ ), but this girl…she radiates with relief. Ani pauses and tests the feeling, lifting his nose and tilting his head almost as if he could taste it in the air. Relief at being alone? No, not quite. Just a…a relief at being at rest. Oh. He gets that. When the day’s work is done and there’s no one else issuing orders, no suns beating down, nothing pressing, it’s nice to be able to sit and _be_ , in the company of nobody but himself and the droids. 

“You might as well come out,” the girl calls without looking at him. “I can feel you from here.”

Anakin edges himself out of the bushes slowly, unused to people having the same senses he does. “Sorry”. 

“It’s fine.” 

As the girl turns to look at him, he notices her tattoos. “Hey,” he says as he shuffles closer, curiosity getting the better of him, “what do those mean?” He points to his own chin. 

She starts and places her hand on the diamond pattern inked in black on her skin. “Oh, it’s, um, it’s private.”

“Oh, okay.” He scrambles up onto the ledge next to her. “Some of the people back home had tattoos but they always wanted to share what they meant.”

“It’s fine,” she replies bemusedly. “Mirialans don’t generally share the meaning of our placements, but I appreciate the question.” 

He cocks his head and tastes the impression of her emotions in the Force. “Why?” 

“…why?”

“Yeah. I thought you didn’t like being asked.”

Her brow furrows as she frowns. “Didn’t your crechemaster teach you that it’s rude to read a fellow Jedi without permission?” 

Ani flushes and looks down. “Um…I’m new. Sorry.” 

“New?” She starts. “But you’ve already got a braid.” 

“Yeah,” he mumbles miserably. “I know.” He starts to mimic her, treading water with his hand. The water is cool compared to his hot skin. He can’t get comfortable here, it’s too cold and it would be totally _not wizard_ to be embarrassed all the time just to keep warm. “I guess I’m supposed to be special.”

“...Special.” The flat tone belies her offense. Ani knew it had been a bad idea to stop and watch her. Now he’s stuck.

“Master Qui-Gon said…” he can’t look at her. He’s never actually talked to anyone about the events of the past few weeks, afraid that he’ll say something wrong and he’ll suddenly find himself back on Tatooine, a bomb in his brain and a lingering sense that he’s meant for _more_ but maybe not exactly what everybody has in mind. “…never mind. It’s not important.”

“Sure seems important.” Ani looks up to find her pretty brown eyes watching him. “I’m Nara.”

“Ani.” 

“Names are the first and most important,” she mutters to herself. Before Ani can question _that_ , she squares up to him on the ledge and continues at a normal volume. “So what’s so pressing that it’s keeping you up at night but you haven’t talked with anyone about it yet?”

At Ani’s goggle-eyed expression she smirks mischievously. “Tit for tat, my friend. You’re not the only one who can taste feelings.” 

His burst of startled laughter surprises even him. 

“Thought you were the only one, huh?” She asks bemusedly. 

“Yeah,” he replies soberly. “I was, back home.”

“Ah.” Now that he’s paying attention, he can see her head tilt the same way his does when he’s tasting for feelings, although she doesn’t sniff the air. “Tatooine?”

He shrugs. If it’s that obvious then he doesn’t need to answer. Plus she didn't ask. “What about you?”

“Why don’t you find out for yourself?” When he looks askance at her she grins again. “Yes, you have my permission.” 

Keeping eye contact, he lifts his head to sniff. Nara says nothing, although her eyebrows speak volumes. 

“…Cold,” he says slowly. “Colder than here. And…blue?” He didn’t think there could be anywhere colder than here. 

“Mirial is an ice planet,” she confirms. 

“Ugh.”

Now it’s her turn to laugh. He watches the way her face transforms. She was pretty before, he thinks, but when she laughs she reminds him of his mother. Sometimes Mom would laugh too, and it was always surprising and always filled with light. Like joy made her a different person, and Ani could see who she truly was underneath…everything. 

“You’re pretty sad, huh?” 

And of course he ruins it by opening his mouth. 

Her laughter stutters to a stop and her face closes down. “What makes you say that?”

Mom always said to be honest, unless it would save a life to lie, so Ani meets her gaze and musters his courage. “You said I could taste.”

“That’s… _ah_.” she looks away, finally realizing, and huffs. “Special.”

“Yeah.” Ani shuffles, as much as he can while his legs are crossed. It’s the first time since he got here that anyone’s said it like it’s a bad thing. 

“It’s not bad.”

“You said I had to give permission to taste!”

“I didn’t need to use the Force to see-” Now it’s Nara’s turn to shift uncomfortably. “Listen. I didn’t mean to imply that…there’s anything wrong with you. I’m sorry that I gave you that impression.”

Ani looks down and away. “ ’S’okay. I get it.” 

“Do you?” She tilts her head curiously. 

“Yeah. I thought I was special. But it was bad, Mom said, because it made me a…a target. It wasn’t the right kind of special. So I had to hide it. But then Master Qui-Gon came and it was good, but then the other Jedi didn’t want me, and then Master Qui-Gon died, and everything was bad again, and then I came here and it’s cold and Obi-Wan said he’d train me but now he _can’t_ , they won’t let him, and I think special is bad like Mom said because everything is supposed to be getting better but it’s _not_ and-.” He gasps for breath, the closest he’s been to crying in years, and shudders as he tries desperately to keep his eyes from filling. 

_(Don’t draw attention. Focus. Weakness is the only thing worse than stillness.)_

Nara says nothing. Her eyes track his uneven, shuddering breaths, waiting patiently for him to regain control as he shuts his eyes. Ani finds himself oddly grateful that she isn’t cooing over him, isn’t trying to touch him, isn’t _doing_ anything to him. He’ll get it under control. Mom taught him well. 

But it’s not coming, the control, like it usually does. Maybe it’s the cold air. Ani thinks that the cold air might be poisoning him. He can feel it infecting him every time he takes a breath, can feel it shrinking his skin every time it brushes against him. How do people live here? There are so many of them and the cold air touches all of them, gets inside them the same way it's infecting him. Their minds never shut off, there are so many emotions - sadness, joy, frustration, desperate wanting wanting wanting, it’s so cold, like the graves they dig at night, like people that stayed still too long, and Ani can’t stop his trembling, shuddering gasps so he opens his eyes and -

There’s a hand extended in the space between them, waiting. Ani finds himself staring at it, still gasping, then up at the pair of warm eyes it belongs to. There’s no expectation there. No condemnation if he doesn’t take her hand, like he’s the _wrong kind of special_ for not wanting the touch. But he does, so he watches himself place his pale hand in hers. Her skin is the color of life, but unlike every green thing he’s ever touched it’s warm and dry. He watches her hand. It’s patterned with small creases and callouses. She’s dressed like a noble but her hands are used to labor. 

Their calluses don’t fit exactly. Ani worked at the garage, where his small hands could get into crevices and in between pipes and wires that bigger kids couldn’t reach, and his calluses are centered on his fingertips. His left index finger has a smooth hard pad where an electrical burn took his print, and his right middle and fourth fingers are permanently indented from holding multiple wires at a time with that hand while he fixes whatever’s gone wrong in the engine with his left. Engines are his specialty. He misses having something to work on. Machines are simpler than people, and they don’t invade his brain either. During the workday he can almost forget he’s not one, until Watto or someone else comes in with a new work order and he has to remember the rules for speaking. He’s not sure whether his life would be better or worse as a droid. 

Nara’s fingertips are callused, too, but evenly. Her whole hand has smooth, even ridges and firm pads from years handling her saber. Obi-Wan’s hands were the same. He traces her calluses with his mind, marveling at their consistency. A very specific type of labor makes those, and he knew that Jedi were warriors but he’d never actually thought about the years of training it takes to make all their hands the same. 

As Ani focuses on the pattern of rough and smooth he feels, the clamor of other people dies away. He can hear his own breath, feel her hand, and everything else seems…tertiary. His breath aligns with hers almost unconsciously. For the first time since - well, if he’s honest, since the Jedi waltzed into his life - his mind is at rest. He doesn’t know it at the time, but this is his first successful meditation. 

“You know, I’m supposed to be special.” Nara’s voice is low and calming. Ani keeps his eyes closed, but he can feel her steady gaze on his face. “Not because of my abilities in the Force. But just because of where I was born.” She sighs. “Politics isn’t something that’s advertised as part of the Jedi life, but it’s there all the same. And before I’d even been sent to the creche I’d been chosen for my pedigree, for my-” Ani can feel her disgusted sneer - “ _potential for influence_ on a rogue priestess who challenged the standing order. No one asked me what I wanted. No one asked if perhaps another Master might be better suited to my abilities. And even if they did, Mirialans have a way of doing things, a combination of the _political_ and the _religious_ that rules our planet and has been our way of life for millennia, and I don’t get to have opinions about my own life if they don’t fall in line.” By the time she finishes Ani hears her breathing quicken and he feels her helpless anger in the Force, as well as her relief that his eyes are still closed. He wonders who exactly is comforting who. 

She shudders once and makes a concerted effort to come back to herself. “I am a Jedi Knight. I am also a High Priestess of Mirial. I am…special.” Ani hears her sigh. “But I would much rather be…”

“Normal,” he finishes, opening his eyes. Their gazes meet and hold, the young woman and the child bearing up under the crushing burdens of others’ expectations.

“Yes.” 

“Is that why you’re sad?” 

“Probably.” Nara smiles, and it’s softer than before but Ani still feels her quiet happiness, a soft joy stemming from finding someone who finally, _finally_ understands. He reflects that joy back to her as he grins, delighted to have found a little bit of home-feeling here on this frigid world. 

“Tell you what,” she says after a moment, and he can feel that she reluctantly needs to go, a quick glimpse of ( _Master Myr asked me to dine with the ambassador tonight_ ), “I’m not always at the main Temple, but when I’m here I’ll come by every morning before breakfast. If you need to talk,” ( _if you’re about to have a panic attack, I have them too I get it_ ), “come find me here at the Lampstand Pool. Okay?” 

She shifts her grip to accommodate a handshake, and Ani complies with all the aplomb a nine year old can muster. “Okay.” 

“Okay.” Nara rises to her feet and walks quickly towards what Ani assumes must be the exit. Suddenly afraid that once he loses sight of her she’ll forget all about him, he calls desperately, “Don’t forget!”. 

She turns, still walking, and beams at him. “I won’t!” She calls back, and as he watches her until she disappears down a bend in the path, Ani thinks he might have found his first real friend. 

* * *

On Tatooine, green is cold, life kept sterile and preserved in ice. But after that first day on Coruscant, Anakin never thinks of green as anything but warmth that keeps the cold at bay. 

**Author's Note:**

> If you made it this far, thank you! I hope you liked it (especially since it's not beta-d, just my editing skills or lack thereof hehe). Please drop me a kudos or a comment if you feel like it, and you can find me on Tumblr as cls1606.


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